She shook her head, but looked amused. “Fine.” Aubrey opened her mouth and closed her eyes.
Jesus Christ. This woman was going to be the death of me. Two years. Now I had to look at the woman I’d been dreaming about for all that time with her painted lips opened and eyes shut waiting for me. And I thought prison was a test of restraint.
Unlike most Americans, Aubrey liked the Vegemite. For some odd reason, I knew she would. Together we devoured everything I brought as we danced around real conversation with small talk. I knew in order to start to win back her trust, she needed to see what Adele meant to me. I also wanted to open myself up to her—transparency invites trust. Dr. Phil was one of the approved shows in prison.
“When Adele and I were kids, I used to like to play practical jokes on her. Saran wrap her body to the bed while she slept. Saran wrap the toilet bowl so she would pee on the floor. Hide under her bed until she got into it and turned the light off. Then I’d jump out and scare the crap out of her.”
“And I used to feel deprived for not having a sibling.”
“Yeah, well. She got even with me once.” I offered her the last bite of the toast, and she didn’t hesitate to open. Why did I love that she ordered salads with Dick and let me fill her with carbohydrates and empty calories?
“What did she do?”
“She was maybe eight or nine, so I was probably ten or soon to be eleven. I’d just found both soccer and girls. There was a girl I’d taken notice of, and she seemed to have noticed me, too. Izzy. She was on the sidelines of my practice one day, and I was showing off…bouncing the ball all over my knee and my head. Izzy was impressed. I had her just where I wanted her. Until I turned around.”
“What did Adele do?”
“She’d painted the back of my white soccer uniform with Vegemite. You ate it between two pieces of toast. But it’s not a pretty sight.”
She laughed. “I’m glad you told me that after we finished eating.”
“Izzy lost interest, and I became Chance dirty pants.”
We both cracked up. “And to think, years later, that dirty pants ass would become famous.”
“You know, that poster has my face on it, too. It’s only a little of my arse showing.”
“Trust me. It’s the ass that sold it.”
“Are you saying you like my ass better than my face?”
She shook her head and didn’t answer, but her cheeks pinked up a bit. “So how did you get even with Adele?”
“I didn’t.” I shrugged. “I was proud of her, actually.”
We talked for two more hours. About nothing. About everything. I could have sat there for days. When Aubrey’s phone buzzed on the table, both our eyes caught the name flashing before our gazes locked. Richard. Dick.
“I should go. I can’t believe we’ve been sitting here for close to two and a half hours. I didn’t even tell my office I was going to be late.” She stood, and I joined her. “What are your plans for today?”
“Go walk some mutts, weed a flower bed for my lawyer. The usual.”
She dug into her pocketbook and pulled out a set of keys. Slipping one off her key ring, she offered it to me. “Here. In case you need to use the bathroom or anything while you’re working.”
It meant so much more than just a place to relieve myself. I took the key from her hand, then linked my fingers with hers. “Thank you.”
I took a step closer. Fuck, she smelled good. “Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia,” I mumbled. Pavlov himself would have drooled at how the smell had conditioned me. It brought me back to the first night in our hotel rooms. The smell permeated her bathroom, and those black lacy underwear were on the counter. Shit. Taking care of myself did nothing to quench the thirst I had around her. My pants were growing snug.
“You remembered the name of my perfume.”
I couldn’t help myself this time. I wrapped my arm around her neck and pulled her against me tightly for a hug. “I remember everything about you,” I whispered in her ear.
She was flush when we separated, but her face grew crimson when she looked down to escape my stare and caught sight of the obvious bulge in my jeans.
“It’s been more than two years,” I offered quietly as an explanation.
“You haven’t—”
“Been inside a woman in two years.” Then I thought better of my phrasing. “I haven’t touched another women since I met you. And I don’t plan on it.”
I watched her throat swallow before she spoke. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“When will I see you again, Princess?”
“I have to go out of town tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be getting on the road early and back late. I’ll text you the day after tomorrow, maybe.”
I hated that answer. But I took it. “Have a safe trip.”
I walked some dogs, went to the gym and decided to skip Aubrey’s for today. After my time with her this morning, I didn’t want to screw things up by being inside stalking when she arrived back home. And there was no doubt once I walked inside her house, I’d be doing a full investigation. So instead, I showered and headed for some quality time with my favorite bartender. The place was always empty at this time.
“You look particularly gorgeous today, Carla Babes.” She had on a red shirt with large white polka dots that was tied just under her ample tits, revealing a shitload of smooth skin. Her pinup girl style hair was done up with a red scarf.
She poured me a drink. “You’re in a good mood today. Finally grow some balls and go after that woman?”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’ve been working on it for two weeks now.”
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” I sucked back a mouthful of my drink.
“What are you, the Dalai Lama?”
“I’m starting to feel like a Buddhist Monk. They don’t get laid either, do they?”
“Let me ask you something. Why don’t you go to a bar and pick up a willing woman and get the dirty deed over with? It’s been a long time. Just have sex. Sweaty, body slapping, meaningless, dirty sex. It might make you feel better.”
Honestly, I’d noticed a few women lately. I’d have to be dead not to. Yet my body didn’t have the desire to be with anyone else. “I would feel like I was cheating.”
“Even though she’s screwing someone else?”
That fucking hurt. “Thanks, Carla.”
“Sorry.” She grinned. “But let me know if you change your mind.”
I looked down at the ring on my finger. They may have been vows spoken in front of Elvis with a buzz on, but I was committed all the same. It made me wonder if she remembered our vows, now that I was back in her life again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They say that the rate of recidivism for criminals is upwards of fifty percent. I was becoming a damn statistic. Even though I had a key and wasn’t technically a criminal, my little snooping gauntlet had me feeling like the felon that I was.
It started innocently enough. I let myself in to go to the bathroom; then Pixy was looking thirsty. So I went through half of the kitchen cabinets to find a bowl. Nothing too incriminating there. Some fancy wine glasses, coffee mugs with law firms etched into them, canned goods with the labels all facing the front. I smiled when I saw two bottles of the red sauce with a pompous rooster proudly displayed on the front. My girl liked the cock sauce.
From there, I moved onto more conspicuous investigating. The bathroom had only one pink toothbrush. The tub was filled with only girly crap. I might have opened the canister of cream on the countertop and taken a giant whiff. It smelled like Aubrey. I was smiling like an idiot again. Until I opened the mirrored bathroom closet. Tylenol, deodorant, razors, extra this and that and…birth control pills. I opened the little oval container and saw Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday had already been popped out of the silver foil this week. The urge to flush the remnants of the month down the toilet was powerful. But the ramifications from doing that was something I couldn�
��t even allow myself to think about. I ventured down the hall further.
Inside her bedroom, I opened the sliding closet doors. One of the doors was off the track and almost came crashing down onto my head. Princess fucker fixes nothing, I see. There was no sign of men’s clothes in the closet, which made me feel somewhat vindicated after the bathroom medicine cabinet find.
On top of her dresser, there were a few framed photographs, one of which I presumed to be Aubrey and her dad at her law school graduation. She was looking at him as he looked at the camera proudly. I remembered he was a lawyer, too. There were a few others. One of her and a friend as teenagers. Another of an older woman and Aubrey. They looked alike; it must have been her grandmother. The last picture caused a crushing sensation in my chest. It was of her and Dick…with Pixy sitting between them. Mutton, you damn traitor. As much as it hurt to look at it, I couldn’t stop staring at it for a full five minutes. Aubrey was smiling widely. She looked…happy. That should have been me.
I’d seen just about all I could take and was about to walk out of her bedroom, when I stopped in front of the last dresser drawers. My eyes fixated on the top drawer, which was square—the type you keep your underwear in. Seeing as I was already an asshole today, I slid it open. Inside was filled with lace. And a note.
Cocky – since you have nothing better to do, how about fixing the closet doors?
I laughed for a full five minutes. We knew each other so well. Then I fixed the closet doors.
I hadn’t heard from her since yesterday morning. I was hopeful maybe tomorrow she would text, excited as hell when my phone flashed her name at almost nine in the evening.
Aubrey: Thank you for fixing the doors, pervert.
Chance: Anything for you.
A few minutes passed. I wasn’t sure if I should apologize for my obvious snooping or not.
Aubrey: You didn’t try any on, did you?
Chance: I’m more of a sniffer than a cross dresser. Plus, I like your ass in lace, not mine.
Aubrey: Very funny.
Chance: I wasn’t kidding about liking your ass in lace.
My phone went quiet. Clearly, I’d moved this conversation from friend territory. I figured why not push my luck a bit more.
Chance: I miss you. When can I see you again?
Aubrey: How about a dog walk tomorrow afternoon? My last appointment at the office should be done by 4.
Chance: I’ll meet you at the shelter at 4:30
Aubrey: OK.
Chance: Good night, Princess.
Aubrey: Night, Chance.
The next afternoon, we met at the shelter. Aubrey arrived after me, looking as beautiful as always in her fancy suit. But when she disappeared into the bathroom and came out wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, flip flops and a pony tail, she looked fucking phenomenal. I couldn’t help but stare at her as we each leashed up two dogs and headed for the park.
“What? You’re looking at me like something is wrong?”
“Just looking at you. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I think you get more beautiful every time I see you.”
She was quiet as we entered the park. We walked for a while and then sat on a bench. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“What was it like? In prison, I mean?”
I suppose it made sense for her to wonder what I’d spent the last two years actually doing. Seeing as all I had done for two years was wonder what she was up to. She was catching up.
“It was…degrading. Overcrowded, yet solidary at the same time.”
“Did you have any visitors?”
“Adele came to see me, every other Saturday.”
“What about your Mom? Is she still taking care of your ill grandmother?”
“No, she passed.”
Aubrey looked over at me. Her face fell. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless. Your grandmother was ill. I should have realized.”
“You couldn’t have known.” I cleared my throat. “They’re both gone now, actually. Mum died of an aneurysm the first year.”
“Oh my God, Chance. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
I opened the water bottle I was carrying and fed some to the panting pooches. Aubrey was still looking at me when the bottle was empty. So I gave her my full attention and waited to hear what she was thinking about.
A tear rolled down her face before she spoke. “You’ve lost so much.”
I wiped it away and cupped her cheek. She leaned into my touch. I could barely breathe remembering all that I lost. “Yes. I did.” I closed my eyes briefly to pull myself together. When I reopened them, Aubrey was still watching me. So I continued. “Sometimes, it takes losing everything to make you realize what you really need.”
She laced my fingers with hers and squeezed. We sat on the bench like that for another hour before the four dogs we were exercising decided it was time to get back up. I told her about the soccer clinic I started in prison. She told me about everything she did to get the animal shelter up and running. Her firm allowed her to do a sizeable amount of pro bono work, which made her happy. It sounded as if she had found the type of balance she was still figuring out she wanted two years ago.
After we returned the dogs to the shelter, I wasn’t ready to let her go. We were standing out front, and it felt like an awkward end to a first date. “Could we go get a bite to eat?” I asked.
She bit her bottom lip. “I sort of have plans tonight.”
Dick. I nodded and looked down.
“But—”
I glanced back up hopeful. I wasn’t beyond puppy dog eyes.
“They were sort of loose plans. Maybe I could change them.”
I answered honestly, “I would really love that. I’m not ready to give you back tonight.”
She nodded and excused herself for a minute, walking away to make a phone call out of earshot. When she returned, she dropped her phone into her purse. “What are you in the mood for? I need to stop home and change for wherever we go. The dogs got me all dirty, and I don’t want to put back on my suit from work.”
“How about we order in?”
She thought about it for a few seconds. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chance.”
I held up three fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Boy Scout’s promise.”
She squinted at me as she considered the idea. “Fine.”
My other hand was behind my back with two fingers crossed.
We ordered spaghetti carbonara and chicken cutlet parmigiana from the Italian restaurant a few blocks from her house. Sharing, we both dug in as soon as it arrived. She dipped a piece of bread into the sauce after we polished off both dishes. “I see you’ve lifted your ban on carbohydrates. I seem to remember you only allowing yourself one cheat meal a month.”
“I decided I liked food too much. So I traded bread and pasta for a strict regimen at the gym. Richard got me into running, and I realized I could burn off a slice of cheesecake in less than thirty minutes. Totally worth the half hour.”
I looked away. Hearing her talk about him, and all the good he’d done for her, left me conflicted. I was happy she was enjoying things more but sad I wasn’t the person who helped her learn to enjoy what life had to offer. If I was truthful, hearing his name from her lips also made me feel cross.
“Sorry.” She caught my long face and offered sincerely.
“I’m being an arse. I’m glad that you’re eating and exercising.” I needed a minute, so I got up and took our plates to the sink. Aubrey cleaned up the table while I loaded and started the dishwasher. It felt so…domestic. So right. I wondered if she felt like this with him, too.
It was only eight o’clock when dinner was done. I didn’t want to outstay my welcome, yet I never wanted to leave. I stared down at the kitchen floor. There were some cracks in the grout—a project for another day. “Do you want me to go?” My head was still bowed, but my eyes looked up at her filled with hope.
She shook
her head and spoke softly. “How about we watch a movie?”
Pixy joined us in the living room. The minute we sat on the couch, the bugger hopped up on the adjoining loveseat. He propped his head up on the armrest and stared at us. “It’s sort of his seat,” she offered.
We argued about what to watch before we finally settled on a series on Netflix that Aubrey babbled on about. It was a show about a motorcycle gang with the mum from that old TV show, Married with Children. We had a TV in the day room in prison, but there was no way a show about bikers was on the approved list of programs. I was a few years behind on even the meaningless things like television shows.
“You know, when I first saw your motorcycle that day in the rest stop parking lot, I imagined myself riding on the back of it, my arms wrapped around that guy.” She pointed to some blonde bloke on the television, riding a Harley with bright white sneakers. “I wondered what it would feel like to ride.”
“Oh yeah?” She lifted her legs onto the couch and stretched them out. Her knees were bent, but her feet reached my thigh. Without thinking, I took one of her feet into my hands and started to rub. She looked pensive at first, but her shoulders quickly relaxed. “Feel good?”
“Mmmm…hmmm.”
“Guess I’ll be taking a trip back down to Hermosa Beach.”
“Why is that?”
“To get my bike. I owe you a ride.”
She closed her eyes as I kneaded her feet. “I’d like that.”
Me too, Princess. Me, too.
“You wanna know what I thought the first time I saw you?”
She chuckled. “Probably not.”
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. You were gorgeous, but something about the way you smiled as you played with that bobblehead just did something to me.”
“I thought you hated me.”
“I wondered what it would feel like to ride, too. Only I wasn’t thinking about the bike one bit.”
Cocky Bastard Page 17
